


I'm looking for something quiet (and I think you are too)

by CorranBlue



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Marriage Proposal, a little bit, also theres the riduurok, best dads in the galaxy, kind of, living their best lives, palm kisses, they go and become farmers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorranBlue/pseuds/CorranBlue
Summary: There's no plot it's just fluff! Din and Boba love each other and their ad'ika, and they start to plan their future (it involves Din finally taking his helmet off, and becoming farmers on a quiet world)
Relationships: Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 17
Kudos: 273





	I'm looking for something quiet (and I think you are too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nic_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic_writes/gifts).



> Happy Birthday friend! This is like a week late at this point, but I hope you enjoy it :)  
> Also thanks to writehandman and treetart for being an extra pair of eyes!

Din climbs aboard the Razor Crest and lets out a soft sigh of relief. He is home. His body knows, and already the aches and pains that come from being a bounty hunter are making themselves known. Din fiddles with the ship's controls to raise the ramp; he is ready to leave this planet (and it’s multitude of pirates) behind. 

These are his floors, and he knows how to walk silently along them, he does, but in this moment he can’t help but let his discipline go a little. It’s soothing to know he’s being expected. After double-checking that the ramp is up and the locks are in place, he speeds to the cockpit. The sooner they set out the better. On his way he passes the ad’ika asleep in their cradle, and he can’t help running a soft finger along their face. They have grown so much since he found them. It was probably all those frogs. Din smiles under his buy’ce and murmurs nonsense words to his sleeping ad. 

When they begin to stir he quickly backs away. He doesn’t quite know why, but his ad’ika tends to wake up if he hovers by their bed for too long. Din spares a final glance at the little one before closing the hood. Hopefully that will keep the loud sounds of the atmosphere exit away and let the kid sleep for longer. 

Din adjusts his bag to sit more comfortably in the spaces between his armour before climbing the ladder to the cockpit. His cyare is waiting when he enters. 

Of course, Boba would never  _ admit  _ he was waiting for Din to return, not out loud at least. But Boba doesn’t need to say things for Din to know them anyway. When he is finally standing in front of his love, the last bit of tension leaves his shoulders and he can breathe easy again. Seeing his aliit safe after time apart eases a part of his soul. 

“Su’cuy, cyare,” Din’s voice is hoarse from a busy day, but no less fond for it. He watches as Boba rallies himself with a forced scowl. 

“You’re late,” he pouts. He’s trying to sound agitated, but Din knows him better than that. 

Din looks down at him as he turns in the copilots chair, meeting his eyes through the visor. Din sees the look in his eyes and he hears what Boba is really saying.  _ I missed you, I love you. I was worried.  _

“I missed you too,” Din teases and unhooks his cape to toss on the empty pilot's chair. Boba always takes his helmet off first, (“to get some fresh air, it’s gross being in my buy’ce for too long”) but for Din it’s his cape. After hours wearing it, it starts to pull at his shoulders. Boba likes to rub his neck when it’s sore, though he says he only does it because Din enjoys it. He might ask for it tonight if he doesn’t crash first. 

Boba scoffs at him and raises an eyebrow. 

And Din can’t help himself, he strides forward and cups Boba’s face, taking in every line and scar, every movement of his eyes. He runs one hand down Boba’s neck and the other up into his curls to gently tug at some of the locks. Boba closes his eyes and leans into the touches. A hum escapes him as he watches that same tension he was carrying leave Boba too. They are both skilled bounty hunters, some of the best, but it’s a dangerous business. You never know what can happen if you aren’t lucky, or if you make a mistake and your partner isn’t there to make up for it. 

Boba brings his own hands up to hold Din’s waist, his hand bumping into Din’s bag. 

“You should take your beskar’gam off,” Boba tugs Din closer and opens his eyes again. Din just hums in response and tugs at his hair again. Boba sighs and lets his head fall back. 

Din very gently leans down to tap his helmet against Boba’s forehead before letting go of him to input the coordinates of their next stop. He sits down in the chair, ignoring Boba’s grumpy protests, and takes the ship through the take off process. He can hear Boba scuffing his boot against the floor and smiles. 

They break out of the atmosphere just as the navigation computer finishes the calculations, so Din puts the ship right into hyperspace and autopilot. He does a quick scan of the systems before devoting his full attention to his partner. 

“Kid had a good time, I showed them how to make ration bar towers. They loved knocking them over, they laughed so hard,” Boba’s voice was softer than usual and he’s stopped kicking his foot, though now he’s playing with the hem of his tunic. “You get everything squared away?”

“Yes, I found the bounty. Caught the bounty, tur-”

“Turned in the bounty, got the reward for the bounty. I know,” Boba leans forward a bit, so Din leans forward with him. “Any injuries?” 

Din feels his face heat slightly at the question. “Nothing major,” at the pointed look his partner gives him he rolls his eyes but continues. “My back is a bit sore, the bounty slammed me against some crates at one point.”

Boba glares at him fondly (a look only Boba can manage. Din assumes he’s calling upon his ancestors to make his eyebrows look so intimidating every time). “Want help with the bacta?” 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Din sighs and spins the chair from side to side. “I’m tired.”

His partner stands up before he’s even finished speaking and starts slipping down the ladder. “Well come on then.”

They meet in the cabin, the only one on Din’s small ship. They’ve argued about this, before. (“We don’t always have to take  _ my  _ ship, Boba. I’m more than happy to take yours if you want”) Din thinks Boba enjoys being in Din’s space, which is why they only check in with the other ship occasionally. It’s parked on an abandoned farm on an out-of-the-way world, far from any major hyperspace lanes or conflicts. It’s quiet there. Peaceful. Boba’s ship is more than safe. 

Din sets his bag on the shelf before hanging his armour up piece by piece. He stands in front of the mirror, looking through his helmet at the undersuit for his armour, checking for any major tears or stains, and finds everything in order. Din catches Boba in the reflection and smiles. Boba can’t see him, but he thinks he can tell when Din is happy. 

They’re in sleep clothes, and Din still has his helmet on. They move around each other with practised ease as they dress, and then settle in bed together. Din holds Boba against his chest, and Boba wraps his arms around Din. Their legs are tangled together, and when they’re like this it’s so easy to picture spending the rest of his life like this. Quietly, with Boba and their kid. Boba must be having similar thoughts, because he mentions a thought he’s been having. 

“That farm, where my ship is parked?” At Din’s hum he continues. “I asked around and the locals told me it’s free for living. They don’t ask for money when claiming land, but they do request that a portion of every harvest goes to feeding the community.” Din feels him take a deep breath, and threads a hand in his hair again. 

“We haven’t really talked about it, but I thought you looked so happy last time we were there. It feels right, Din,” Boba wiggles back so he can look into Din’s visor. “I want...I want us to raise our ad there. I want to put down roots. I want to say the riduurok and be a vhett like my father, before the Haat’ade and the Mand’alor, and Gallidran and revenge, and war and running from the Empire. I just want  _ us _ , Din. Together.”

Din might be tearing up under his helmet. How did he get so lucky? He has everything he could ever ask for, and now here is this warrior, this man, ready to spend the rest of his life with Din. 

“You know this means you have to give me one of your bracers?” Din tries to smooth away the smile lines on Boba’s face as he breaks out in a brilliant grin. 

“Anything you want, cyare,” he vows. Boba leans up to press his head against the unpainted metal of Din’s buy’ce. “You know this means I’ll finally get to see your face?”

Din shivers and grabs Boba’s biceps. “Anything you want, cyare.”

Nothing changes the next morning, except when they get dressed they give each other their right bracer. Boba’s is a bit snug on his arm, but it feels right. It feels like a promise. Soon they will officially be a clan of three. 

It takes them a few stops to tick all the boxes on their checklist. They needed fuel for both ships, extra rations, some clothes for the cold cycles of the planet and more actual clothes for their ad’ika. They seemed to lose more shirts than Din could keep up with sometimes. Din finds some of Boba’s favourite fruit, so he snags a few meilooruns and hides them in his bag for later. 

Two weeks after the conversation they’re back on the quiet planet, Din grabbing their ad’ika and Boba carrying a pack with some tools. They fix up the modest home over the course of a few weeks, just in time to start seeding their new fields. Their kid can’t help much, so they trade off working outside and working inside. Boba doesn’t say anything, but Din knows how precious this time is for him. 

One day while Boba is working the fields Din takes their ad into the nearest town, looking for something specific. He finds them at a market stall run by a young girl. She’s more than happy to barter for some of the flowers he’s been growing out front in his spare time, with the promise he’ll bring her some of the seeds when fall comes. 

They arrive home, Din and the child, to see Boba waiting for them in the doorway. Their ad’ika squeals and launches themself into the arms of their other buir, and Din wraps his arms around both of them. 

“Oor! Oor!” The ad’ika squeaks out. “Oor!”

“Yes, it’s your buir ad’ika,” Din says fondly and pokes their belly. “Did buir make supper?”

“I did,” Boba presses against Din’s helmet and grins. “I think you’ll be happy.”

Even through the filters in his helmet, Din recognizes the blistering scent that greets him. 

“Boba! You made tiingilar?” Din turns to grip his hand in thanks. His partner smiles gently back at him, before pulling his gloved hand up to press a kiss against the palm. Din’s heart feels so full, he thinks he might melt. He can’t wait any more. 

“Ni kartayli gar darasuum, Bob’ika,” Din reaches out with his other hand to hold onto their ad’ika too, completing their little circle. “I think it’s time.”

“Now?” He sounds surprised, but he looks happy. Not just happy, overjoyed. Like his face might split in half from smiling too hard, like his body can’t control the joy. With the expression on his face it’s easy to imagine what he looked like ten, twenty years ago. Din laughs and nods his head. 

“We’re here, the farm is ready, what are we waiting for?” Din looks at their ad’ika. “Should your buire say the riduurok tonight, ad? Should we?”

The child giggles and presses their hands against Din’s helmet. 

“I think that’s a yes,” Din turns to Boba and his heart flutters at the look of pure devotion on his face. 

“Well, if  _ they _ think so,” Boba holds Din’s hand tighter and shifts their kid so they’re perched on his shoulder and he can take Din’s other hand. “Together?”

“Together.” 

Din hasn’t felt so sure of something since he saved the child. 

“Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dar’tome. Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.” 

Din takes a breath and grips Boba’s hands so hard he’s afraid he might break a finger. His breath is shaking and he thinks he might pass out. No one has seen his face since he was a kid, what if Boba doesn’t like it? What if it scares the kid? His thoughts wanted to spiral out of control, but then he looks at Boba and the world pauses for a second. 

Boba, who is standing there fidgeting with his feet, with their child on his shoulder, who looks so excited he can’t stand still. Boba, his partner, his riduur. 

“Riduur,” Din breathes. 

“Riduur,” Boba says the word with wonder, and love, and care. He releases Din’s hands and looks hard at his visor. Then he raises his hands, places them on the sides of Din’s helmet, and waits. He asks Din a silent question. 

_ Are you ready? _

And Din nods, because of course he’s ready, this is Boba, his riduur. His aliit. 

Boba is slow and reverent as he pulls off the helmet. He releases the seal and twists slightly to loosen the helmet from its seam. Fingers dip below to dance along his jaw, up his cheek. Din and Boba are both holding their breath until a panicked chirp from their ad’ika refocuses them. 

“Ad’ika, it’s okay, we’re taking buir’s helmet off,” Boba glances up at their kid, but doesn’t pause in his exploration of Din’s face (or what he can reach of it at least). “And he’s handsome, or he feels handsome.” Boba winks at him and his face flushes. Boba finds the heat with his hands. “Oh, modest too!” 

Boba takes a half step towards him, they’re so close they could kiss, and he thinks that if Boba doesn’t get a move on he might take off the helmet himself, but here Boba is, his face is so close and he didn’t realize that Boba pulled it off until he hears it thunk onto the ground and he says “Hello, cyare,” before pulling him into a kiss, and, oh, he didn’t realize how soft Boba’s lips would feel under his own, or how Boba would cup his jaw and tilt his head into the kiss, or how he would gasp into Din’s mouth like he was the answer to a question he’s been asking his whole life, he didn’t  _ know _ . 

And Boba is kissing him and kissing him, and pulling him closer, he’s not staring or making Din feel like he doesn’t fit his skin or that he’s not enough. Din is breathing again, and he feels like he is home. 

When they break apart, tears are running down both their faces, and they are laughing with so much joy. Their child coos in delight and reaches for him, so Din picks them up and holds them close, letting tiny green hands explore his face. His eyes widen in surprise and he can’t help making a noise as the kid grabs his nose and yanks. Luckily Boba’s hands are there to help him free his nose. 

“That hurt,” Din scolds. 

Boba brings a hand up to his neck and laughs. “Say that again!” He pleads. 

“What? Why?” Din shakes his head as Boba closes his eyes and a few more tears fall. “Boba? Boba, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing‘s wrong, cyare. That’s your voice,” his own voice cracks in the middle and Din can’t help but smile and pull him close, careful not to squish their child. 

“It is,” he agrees. “Oh! I have something for us, hold on.” He passes their ad’ika back to Boba and roots around in his bag. 

“You’re still wearing that? You wore your bag during our wedding?” Din will never live this down. Boba always hated his bag. 

“Just, hush. Take this,” he passes a small piece of cake to his riduur and holds his own. It’s dense enough they don’t have to worry about making a mess, and Din knows even before biting into it that it’s delicious. “I thought it would be a good surprise.” He picks a chunk off to give their ad before taking his own bite. 

Boba makes a muffled noise of what might be agreement around his mouthful. They polish off the treat in no time, and it leaves a sweet taste in Din’s mouth that makes the evening that much more special. 

“Should we go have some of that stew buir made?” Din asks their ad and gathers them in his arms. 

“One thing first,” Boba says. Din looks up to ask him and Boba is kissing him again. Din closes his eyes and sinks into the content feeling around them as Boba guides him into a gentle mirshmure’cya and lets their breath mingle for a moment. 

“Okay, now supper, ner’riduur,” Boba winks at him. “Can’t believe we finally get to eat together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed :)  
> Come say hi on tumblr @corranblue if you want!


End file.
